


Honeymoon

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21997090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Mitsuhide ponders on what he will never know.
Relationships: Akechi Mitsuhide/Oda Nobunaga
Kudos: 9





	Honeymoon

When Kichou had first been introduced to Nobunaga, when the marriage (which was more for an alliance than anything else) was arranged – Mitsuhide had watched with trepidation, and not a shred of envy. Being wedded off and given to another sounded like absolute hell to someone who thought as he did, and operated as he did, and although Kichou seemed to be perfectly complacent with her position he couldn’t comprehend that she truly was happy about this.

How wrong he was.

Years later when he was brought into Owari by his strange employer he saw them again, except now she was _Lady Nou_ and Oda Nobunaga had come a long way from the Fool that he had once been known as, and he took one look at Kichou’s face and knew that he had been wrong from the start.

She was happy. She was truly happy and the longer he remained there, now fighting under Nobunaga’s flag and name, the more he understood. Being near Oda Nobunaga was like a drug, with his impossible disregard for his own apparent mortality, his insistence that he would achieve what had never even been attempted before. If Mitsuhide listened for long enough he almost believed that he _could_ conquer the world, the seas and the heavens, suddenly it did not seem that far off. Just a little further and the universe would be in his hands. 

He promised much and Mitsuhide, starved for the vibrant visions that Nobunaga seemed to bask in, fell hard and fast. And now he thought again of Kichou sitting beside Saito Dosan, and how much he had been grateful that he would not be in that position. How strange it was that he now yearned for the exact opposite. 

Years had passed and Lord Nobunaga was his flesh and breath and blood, him and his grand ambitions that transcended life itself. 

Maybe if that had been me.

Nobunaga was brash and blunt from the very beginning, paying little attention to decorum and what was traditionally expected of him. It had been overwhelming to watch. He could only imagine what it would have been like, had it been _directed_ at him. Would he have shivered, would he have held his resolve and stared Nobunaga back in the eye, as unyielding as his challenger? 

And – he thought about this part often – what of their wedding night? What if it had been him – would Nobunaga have treated him with some sense of care and fragility, as something to be preserved rather than used time and time again until he had nothing left to offer? My Lord am I worthy of such permanence, won’t you give it to me – 

_Give it to me_

Sometimes in these little daydreams Nobunaga-kou was unspeakably gentle, and the thrill lay in knowing that only _he_ would get to see this side of the fearsome demon king. It was in knowing the dangers that lay behind those hands as he insistently tugged each garment off of Mitsuhide’s body, not with the intent to harm but with a thorough sort of care that would run through him and leave him breathless. 

And yet sometimes he would do the very opposite and dig his nails in, fabric would be torn and the skin underneath it would not be spared either. Mitsuhide would cry out for more. Nobunaga-kou, now owning him body and soul, would mercifully oblige and drive him to the most exquisite brink before bringing him back down, both of them clinging to the knowledge that they would ascend again, and again, until either one of them gave out. 

_Should have been me_

At first he had felt these strange pangs of envy – towards Kichou, towards her position, towards the rare form of quasi-affection that she surely must have from a man most unlikely to show it, but now he knew that it was not her he envied. In fact he did _not_ envy at all – for then the bloodshed that he regularly waded through would be unattainable. Mitsuhide wondered if this could be considered greed. Usually greed was associated with the wanting and hoarding of material things – but perhaps it could apply to knowledge as well. 

In which case he was the most reprehensible sinner of them all.


End file.
